curtains restrained by shining gold holdbacks. Tasteful displays of silk flowers flanked their sleek black television. Everything was there to make the room just so. She began to read her book, keeping her eyes steadfastly downwards when he spoke to her. ‘God dammit, we can’t ‘ just read ’.This is important.’ ‘More important than your job? You have work tomorrow; let’s not squabble.’ ‘No, let’s squabble. I want to know why we’re like this – we never used to have such a rough time.’ ‘You expect me to know?’ she inquired, though her eyes did not leave her book. ‘Just remember how we used to be… when we got married. Dreams, ambitions, hopes - what have they turned into? We fell into the system as soon as we came to Dulwich.’ He now spoke earnestly and quickly, as though he didn’t have time to say what he wanted to say. ‘What system?’ He swung his arm in a wide arc across the room. ‘The quest for the house, the car, the kids, the private education, big TV, moving to the country… before that we had so much to look forward to. That dream of opening a little gallery under our old flat: gone. Now I’m in a job I hate; you spend your time gossiping about the same things to those shrews you call friends . Are you happy?’ ‘Yes, I am happy. For God’s sake, they’re our friends; don’t say such things!’ She suddenly closed her book, and looked at him with an air of incomprehension. ‘Well it’s true. I want us to do something, see? A change of scenery, hopefully a new job. It’s draining me. You don’t understand.’ He stood up and moved towards the window.The high, early autumn
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